Mornings in Camelot
by TheDarkWitchofNarnia
Summary: "Those markings on your skin," He started and immediately felt her stiffen next to him. "They are just normal tattoos Merlin." She said softly, fidgeting against him. He turned his head down to look at her and matching her tone, whispered, "Normal tattoos don't glow when you are dying Orhea."
1. Chapter 1

Morning in Camelot, it's safe to say, is the most peaceful and chaotic time of the day. Early dawn, when the sun just peaks over the horizon, when birds just begin chirping, when a thin layer of mist and dew fogs over the courtyard, when only the odd person can be seen, when the horses are still grazing in the fields is the most tranquil time. It is this time that the servants of Camelot would wake up and the castle would fall into its morning harmony.

In the next ten minutes they would blearily start the day, half dressed and half awake. The cook would start the fires. The milk maids would begin the trek down the castle steps towards the village where the shop keepers are setting up their market stalls in a slow haze. Out in the fields the stable hands begin to round up the horses and take them inside to their stalls.

And it is now that the hustle and bustle would start and the castles tempo would increase. Once everyone was awake enough to start their jobs properly. Once the fire was warm enough to start cooking. Once the sun was high enough to start waking up the Lords and Ladies of the castle. And everyone would begin to rush around making breakfast, sweeping halls, and chaos would ensue.

But it was always a routine chaos. In the kitchens the cooks and the hands would move around each other like a dance, working in tandem. When one person accidentally knocked the salt of the top with their elbow, the person walking past them would catch it smoothly, replace it, then carry on their way. When the bucket of water became too heavy for the maid to carry up the marble steps causing her to stumble, the squire running past would catch the maid and the bucket, before helping her up the steps. Sometimes they would then proceed to flirt but let's not get into that.

When one person spilt milk, another would appear suddenly and mop it up. Equipment would be passed or thrown around from person to person till it reached its destination. Scrolls of parchment with instructions on would get read aloud as the castle was told was it was doing that day.

Everyone knew what they supposed to be doing, and where they were supposed to be and at what time. They were all in sync.

It was the morning routine. And everybody knew it.

So when Merlin woke up late and had to sprint to the kitchens, the old washerwomen with their baskets of satin and silk stood to the side with knowing smiles. "You're late." They called after him, in cackling voices. As would be the routine.

The milkmaids held their full pails above their heads, ducking and weaving out his way. "Watching the time, Merlin?" They shouted teasingly as they followed him at a slower pace towards the kitchens. As would be the routine.

The squires running with arms full of armour in the opposite direction danced around him awkwardly and the unburdened maids behind them caught any armour they dropped. "Your shirt's on backwards." Someone helpfully told him. Not always the routine.

A servant carrying two buckets of soaping water across his shoulders actually crouched down so Merlin could leap over him. "Nice bed head," He yelled after the raven haired man, who half raised his hand in reply.

The kitchen doors swung open as Merlin reached them and he hurtled across the threshold, dodging the unsuspecting serving girl carrying a plate of food – causing her to gasp and drop the plate (the girl was obviously new), which was caught by a passing cook- and he came to a skidding halt next to his partner in crime just in time to catch a jug of water as it fell off the cart.

"You're late." She told him- her voice accented slightly- grabbing the jar and placing it back onto the cart before wheeling it off towards the door. Merlin followed after her, ducking as someone threw a wooden spoon over his head, as did the cook who was quickly pilling up some last minute food onto the cart before shoving rest into Merlin's arms at the kitchen doors.

The girl pushed the cart along the stone corridors at a fast pace and Merlin jogged along beside her, placing fruit and bacon onto the two separate plates and rearranging them to look even more tasty. "Over slept," was Merlin's reply as he grabbed the end of the cart and began to move backwards up the stairs. The girl picked up the other end and together they manoeuvred the food-laden cart up the stair case.

Working as a team was daily occurrence for them as they moved through the corridors. The girl began to sing lightly under her breath, the wordless tune was the same one she sang each and every morning and by now Merlin also knew it off by heart, and would sometimes sing it to himself, though never in her presence.

A man-servant with a long roll of parchment containing Arthur's duties for the day caught up to them and began reading quickly to Merlin who nodded along, memorising the list. The man-servant walked with them for a few more minutes prattling on about the kings meeting with the Book Keeper's guild and the practitioners before turning off left at a junction while Merlin and the girl carried on right. As they walked, Merlin began to re-read the parchment ready to present to Arthur. Over the years of being Arthur's servant he had perfected the art of reading and walking at the same time.

Three identical maids joined them as they reached the east wing, each of them holding up different coloured satin dresses for the girl pushing the cart to inspect.

"I like the red one." Merlin ventured glancing up from his parchment briefly.

The girl nodded in agreement. "Aye, bring the red and purple ones." She instructed the triplets. "And get someone to fix the hole in the green silk one she wore last week. And fetch the crown, her normal one. And a necklace. Something gold."

The girls nodded enthusiastically and scampered off to prepare the clothes. The girl who had been holding the green dress looked slightly crest fallen that her choice had not been chosen.

"With matching earrings!" His companion shouted after them as an afterthought as they hurried away. "I like authority." She remarked happily to Merlin and carried through the castle.

Finally they came to a halt at pair of double oak doors and they turned inspect each other and the food.

"Your shirt's on backwards," She informed him.

"Your hair's coming undone," was his reply.

They both began to fix their appearance, Merlin shrugging off his brown jacket, and undoing his belt while the girl pulled numerous amounts of cheap hair pins from her hair and stuck them in her mouth. Merlin moved his arms out of his sleeves and swivelled his shirt the right way round before redressing. The girl twisted her blond hair back into a messy bun at the nape of her neck and began sticking pins in at random to keep it in place, a few strands that were too short to reach her neck were already falling loose around her eyes and she blew them out of the way impatiently. Merlin began to move the food around the plates that had been disturbed during the journey from the kitchens while she reached up and smoothed down his bed hair.

When everything was ready presentable, Merlin and girl turned to each other again.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

She reached up and neatened his neckerchief while he placed a flower in her hair. Then together they turned and knocked on the door, then entered, preparing to wake the King and Queen for another day in Camelot.

As would be the morning routine.

* * *

Hope you like, love Elle.


	2. Chapter 2

"Merlin." Prod.

"Merlin?" Prod.

"_Merlin._" Prod.

"MERLIN!" Slap.

Merlin jolted awake with a yell came face to face with his waker, yelled some more, scrambled backwards on his bed and hit the wall.

"_OW!_ WHA-" The girl clamped her hand over his mouth to cover up his shout.

"Shhh-" She hissed with a glance to the door. "You don't want to wake Gaius."

Merlin gave her a murderous look. "_What,_" he shoved her hand off him, "the hell do you think you are doing?"

"Waking you up." The girl replied easily.

Merlin stared at her with an 'are you kidding me' face and groaned. "It's still dark outside." He grumbled. Sure enough outside his window, his view of Camelot was hidden by the darkness of night. Or at least, _very_ early morning. "Go back to bed; we don't have to be up for hours."

"_I know_," She said defensively, and then her face spilt into a wide, excited grin. "But there's something I want you to see."

And that was that.

There was no arguing when she was like this; her eyes full of fire and her body practically quaking with anticipation. Merlin had only ever seen her eyes dance in such a light once before; when a troupe of travelling acrobats had visited the castle and performed for the court. She had been giddy the entire day and enthralled with the graceful beings that had seemed to fly effortlessly through the air. Oh yes, her body was radiating with such the same excitement. It was nigh impossible to say 'no' to her when she was like this.

And _yet_; he had been having such a good dream, and it was so early. He could still send her away and lie back down in bed. His sheets could still mould themselves into a cocoon around him, and he would be enchased in warmth once again. Whatever she had to show him could wait, couldn't it?

"Alright fine," He sighed. Across from him she let out a small, excited noise and jumped lightly off his bed, throwing a bundle of clothes at him.

"You won't regret this, I swear." She stood with her back to him facing the window as to give him some privacy while he changed.

"I better not," Merlin muttered, and pulled off his nightshirt. The room fell silent for a couple minutes as Merlin changed and she fell deep into her own thoughts, humming under her breath though still unable to keep still. What an earth she could possibly have to show him at this hour of the morning, Merlin dreaded to think. Everything was always a surprise with her. And not always a good one.

"You ready then?"

Merlin gave one last long look at his bed before nodding and following her out the door. They tiptoed across the physician's quarters, careful not to wake up Gaius, and then slipped quietly through the door and out into the castle. Outside the dark sky was beginning to lighten; the dark black turning to Indigo blue as, unseen to them, the sun climbed toward the horizon.

Merlin followed slightly behind her as she led the way through the silent castle to wherever it was they were going. Slumbering guards, who were meant to be on duty, nodded awake as they passed and looked at them with bleary yet suspicious eyes. No doubt their early morning wander would be the talk of the castle by midday.

-It was common knowledge to all the servants that the guards of Camelot gossiped worse than the washerwomen. It made sense, how else would they keep from dying of boredom and they did see practically _everything _that went on within the high stone walls. Merlin always joked that the guards knew more of the runnings of Camelot than the King did.-

Wherever they were going, Merlin noticed, it was defiantly _up_. Every staircase they came to led them up not down and soon they reached the top floor. It was here that Merlin finally felt the need to question her.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

They turned down a corridor and that led to a dead end. But instead of turning back around, she carried on down the hall, ignoring the doors to her left and right and stopped in front of the large window. Flicking the latch, she flung the glass wide.

"Well come on, then." She said to Merlin with a gesture of the head, and climbed out onto the castle roofs.

"This can only end in disaster." Merlin muttered, and yet followed after her anyway, half curious and half concerned.

The frosty morning air nipped at his face. Just outside the window she had laid out a blanket on the grey, slanted roof and was now sitting on it her legs stretched out in front of her. Merlin awkwardly sat down to join her while trying not to stumble. If he fell it would only be a quickly roll and a six story drop down to the stone courtyard. A scenario he did not want happening. Ever. She didn't pay him any attention to him as he sat down as her gaze was focused unwaning on the view in front of them. Merlin followed her gaze and caught his breath.

She had chosen a section of roof that allowed them to see the whole of Camelot laid out before them, the new morning sun still hidden under the height of the horizon, though it's light stretched up across the sky in pale streaks messing with the light of the fading stars. The entirety of the Citadel stood around them. Domes, arches, chimneys, skylights and turrets formed a world of stone and smoke cast in blues and greys in the new morning light. Dots of bright burning lights from flaming torches spotted here and there amongst the brick giving the illusion of stars.

Below and beyond that, the wooden world of the Lower Town could be seen, shrouded in mist and smoke. Where the sounds and smells of the morning market being set up were carried on the western wind. Thatched roofs coupled with ash covered stone chimneys could be seen poking through the haze.

To the west, in a thick semi-circle of dark green was the forest, blanketing the land in dense woodland, stretching as far as the eye could see. On the other side, shadowed fields, pastures, meadows and farmland completed the view, all surrounded by large green hills.

The whole picture took his breath away though that was more due to the sharp, cold morning air. Wordlessly, she picked up another blanket and threw it over them, still not taking her eyes off the horizon. Slowly, the indigo sky faded more into dawn as the sun rose marking a new day, bringing gold to the blues and greys of Camelot. Now he could see why she had brought him up here. Camelot at sunrise was truly one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen; it made him proud to call the place his home.

He sat drinking in the view for a moment before sneaking a glance at the blonde beside him. She didn't acknowledge him but instead carried on staring expectantly at the horizon. And so he sat with her in silence, simply content to watch the sunrise, though Merlin could not shake the feeling that she was waiting for something. But they didn't speak, they didn't need to. Then slowly, Merlin started to notice. As the sun rose even higher, it gradually passed behind a dark shadow. At first, it was only a small corner of the sun turned black, but then the curved shadow spread to cover the it completely, consuming the light itself and they were left in semi-darkness.

Now all that could be seen of the sun was a brilliant ring of golden light, a dark black circle blocking its centre. It was one of the most beautiful things Merlin had ever seen.

"Solar eclipse." Merlin breathed in awe, breaking the silence.

Next to him, her eyes gleamed at the sight and she smiled, taking his hand. "Happy Birthday Merlin." She whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

The swords let out another resounding clang as they met half way between their wielders. The two men in armour seemed to slow for a moment as their eyes met above the blades, before the brunette drew back first and the blonde, making his move, kept pushing forward. Only the brunette dodged to the side, avoiding the thrust and banged the hilt of his sword against the now undefended back of the blonde, sending him stumbling forward. The brunette took a few seconds breather while behind his back, the blonde regained his footing and whirled around wildly, sword swinging. With reflexes fast as a cat, the brunette turned to face his attacker again, bringing his sword up to block the strike and the two weapons clanged again. The men pushed all their weight against their swords, bringing them chest to chest, the blonde grimacing at the force of the smiling brunette. Determined to be the stronger of the two, the blonde heaved forward with all his might, but the brunette, instead of falling backwards, crumbling under the pressure or returning it, slipped to the left and the blonde was left leaning on empty air. The forces of gravity held against him and he fell forward, the brunette giving him an extra kick to the ground. Immediately after hitting the muddy floor, the blonde rolled over, armour clanking, reaching for his sword and was met with his attackers blade at his throat. There was a heavy pause.

"Yield." The blonde man gasped and above him, the brunette nodded and withdrew his sword, all around them the circle of young men began to applaud.

The brunette spat at the ground before offering his downed comrade a gloved hand, which was accepted and the man pulled his fellow knight to his feet, flicking his hair out of his eyes as he did.

"That was a good fight." The brunette breathed. "Your stance has really improved, Kayne."

"Thank you Sir Gwaine." Kayne bowed, still breathing heavily from exhilaration. His face was flushed and mud splattered but his eyes beamed with the compliment.

Sir Gwaine clamped him on the shoulders and sent him back into the circle of young Knights-to-be who all stood eagerly around him. "Now," he started, speaking to all of them, "while that was a good fight, who can tell me where Kayne went wrong?"

"He was too slow."

"He kept losing his footing."

"He fought you."A young one jested making the others laugh and even Sir Gwaine chuckled before holding up his gloved hand for silence.

"These are all true," he said, and Kayne flushed, looking down. "But there is one specific move that led to Kayne's loss. Who can tell me what it was?" There was silence as the knights looked at one another. Some avoided Sir Gwaine's gaze while others shuffled their booted feet. "Come on, anyone?" Sir Gwaine spread his arms, "No one?"

"He lost his composure and let it turn into a battle of strength," A voice beyond the circle called, and the men all turned to see a knight trudging towards him.

"Ah, Sir Elyan," Sir Gwaine called good-humouredly, "Come to spy on my teachings have you? Secretly looking for tips on how to become a better Knight? Because you know, espionage is not the only way to go about it. I would be more than happy to give some private tutoring on the skills of the sword, you need only ask."

Sir Elyan rolled his eyes at his friend and joined him in front of the class, the men parting to let him through, bowing their heads in respect. Sir Elyan turned and looked Kayne in the eye as he carried on speaking kindly to him; "Right at the end of your fight, you made the mistake of putting all your weight through onto the sword, creating a poor base footing and a wide opening for your enemy on both your left and right. By creating that position, you gave Gwaine advantage over you, which he then took. But even if your enemy had buckled under the force of your sword, with the stance you had, you still would have fallen to the ground, though this time on top of him."

"That being said," Sir Gwaine carried on quickly, "you really have improved immensely, not only as a fighter, but as a thinker. Your moves are generally well strategised and then carried out with precision; your blows are true and their reach their mark."

"Your only problem," Sir Elyan continued, "is by the end you were becoming desperate and frustrated and got ahead of yourself, assuming that brute strength alone would win you the fight."

"But you all must remember," Sir Gwaine spoke, raising his voice to all of them, "that strength is only one part of swordsmanship. You must also be swift and cunning. Your moves should be graceful and should flow like water while your stance and balance remains grounded and as hard as a rock."

"But you should also be light on your feet like air and every blow you make should be with fire." Sir Elyan added. "You must be able to keep your cool within a fight and not let your emotions rage."

"But rather speak through your sword, as it is a part of you. Understand?" Sir Gwaine finished. The young-knights-in-training stared at them, confusion etched across their muddy faces.

"So, what you're saying is," A young man with piggy eyes broke the silence first, speaking slowly, "is that we should be like the elements?" He frowned at them.

Sir Gwaine sighed. "I think perhaps, Sir Elyan, that another demonstration is in order?"

Sir Elyan drew his own sword and turned to face his friend with a grin. "I think perhaps, Sir Gwaine, that you are right."

And the young Knights-in-training stepped back a few paces to give two of the legendary Knights of Camelot some space as they began to circle each other.

Soon the sound of clanging swords could be heard again, ringing up high across the lawns outside the Citadel.

* * *

Love Elle x


	4. Chapter 4

_Sorry Guys, its been a while I know._

* * *

A young maid in a brilliant red tunic made her way down the deserted castle corridor, a basket of clothes balanced on her hip. Her blond hair was pulled back into its usual messy bun, a few loose strands falling across her forehead. The left side of her face was lit up gold as the morning sun shone on her through the windows lining the wall, her elongated shadow moved in time with her along the right. Not that she seemed to notice this. Her brown eyes were glazed over, giving her a faraway look as her mind wondered beyond the windowed and shadowed walls surrounding her. Or that is it appeared. For all of a sudden, as if sensing something, her eyes seemed to snap back to the present. The clouds covering her gaze disappeared in an instant, revealing the sharp intelligence that had hidden behind them.

The girl stopped still and stood in the middle of the corridor, basket on her hip, her tired, freckled face flashing with annoyance.

"What d'you want, Kayne?" She asked sharply, not turning around.

There was a deep, short laugh behind her and heavy footfalls as her shadow was joined with a much larger one.

"You always manage to sense my presence before it is known." Came the remark in her ear, hot breath tickling at her neck. She quickly put some distance between them and whirled around, holding the wicker basket in front of her like a sort of shield.

The man before her sneered, dark humour replaced with revulsion as he looked upon the handmaiden. His face would was been a handsome one, if he were not twisting it. He had a long, almost aristocratic nose and high, elegant cheekbones matched with flushed cheeks and deep green eyes, topped with a thicket of straw like hair with came down to his shoulders. His broad, burly figure was exemplified by the thick layers of chainmail he wore. At his side was a sword, which his gloved hand seemed to twitch towards subconsciously.

The girl noticed this and smirked. "Not afraid of me are you?"

"Never." Kayne growled as if insulted by the thought.

"Then why do you so wish to draw your sword against me, if the reason is not to protect yourself?"

"To give you a warning," He replied. "To put you in your place."

The girl blinked cooly. "You think a mere sheet of metal intimidates me? Though whether it is blunt like your wit, or sharp like your foul tongue, I can assure you its assistance won't be needed. I know my place."

"What, _here?_" He gave a sharp sarcastic laugh. "Your place is the gallows, _wench_. Not Camelot."

The girl continued looking unfazed. "The queen don't seem to think so."

"_That is because you have deceived her_."He spat hurriedly, his tone dropping to a hush even though they were the only two in the corridor. "_You_, with your trickery and sorcery! You _deserve_ to hang!"

Her brown eyes flashed dangerously but otherwise her face remained composed. Eventually she spoke her retort, voice low yet steady. "I am no sorcerer."

"That's what you have every one believing isn't it? _Well not me_. I will out you, _wench_. Mark my words; you will be punished for your crimes!"

Exasperation and annoyance now covered the girl's freckled face before being replaced with cool anger. "And who would believe you, huh? Those fickle maidens who cling to your sleeves at every turn? Those thickheads called friends of yours who spend their time whacking each other with wooden clubs and call it sport? I have ties with the very heart of Camelot. You're just some dumb nobleman's son. If your father had not died fighting that dragon I doubt you would even be given the time of day!"

"Well I need not live off my father's memory for long, _wench_. My skills on the battlefield are legendary. Why, just today I beat Sir Gwaine in combat without breaking even a sweat, it was all too easy to be honest. I have dined with King Arthur more than once and have served him and _his_ father all my life. It is only a matter of time before they make me an official knight of Camelot. And when they do, I will have enough trust and authority for Arthur to listen to me when I tell him of your true purpose in being here; _to be a spy for Morganna_!"

The girl blinked at him, his face inches from hers, a splash of his sprayed spit on her cheek. She did not look frightened. Or worried, or insulted. Her reaction to his fiery speech was not as he had imagined when he'd carefully drafted the words in his mind before following her down the corridor. Instead of even looking a tad apprehensive, clear amusement flashed across her face and she seemed to be trying her hardest not to laugh in his face. This did nothing but ignite his temper and he all but yelled;

"Y_ou will not find this funny when you have a noose around your neck_!"

The girl shook her head, whipped her cheek and turned around, shifting her basket back to her hip. "I am not a sorcerer, you idiot. Magic is not the only reason behind every seemingly impossible feat your small brain sees." And she walked away, leaving the 'Future Knight' seething, alone in the corridor.

* * *

_Love Elle._

_Ps. The name for our girl is going to be revealed as soon as I find one that suits her. Tell me if you have any suggestions._


	5. Chapter 5

There she was, sweeping the courtyard, a few strands of golden hair falling over her eyes.

Her job was not usually to clean up the grounds; Gwen must have dismissed her for the morning.

He knew the leaves had been building up against the white stone, but it was usually the job of one of the grounds keepers to clear up. It seemed just like her to find more work when she had finished hers.

Her breath fogged up around her in the chilly air and once again he wondered why she insisted on working outside in the cold. The thin brown shawl around her shoulders obviously did little to preserve her warmth, why she didn't buy a new, thicker one he didn't know. After all, any position within the Royal Household was of reasonable pay, especially when you were the personal handmaiden to the Queen. A simple woollen cloak, shawl or tunic would be well within her price range. Perhaps even one of rich furs if she saved up...

He shook his head and turned away; it was none of his business what she did with her time or money, and it most surely not his place to think about it. He had better things to think about, important things. Why had he even stopped to notice her?

"Percival!"

He started at the sound of his name and looked up at Gwaine, who stood at the end of the corridor looking at him with an almost apologetic smile. "Not to interrupt your lovesick stupor or anything, but there is a council awaiting your presence."

Oh, he remembered now. He was going to report in about what his small scouting mission had found down in Eastridge. Gwaine was to report on the training of the new Knights. And he was pretty sure Sir Boras had a report to make about a bandit attack a few weeks ago. Plus Leon would be making his monthly speech on the kingdom about taxes and deaths and war statuses from that list of his. No doubt they would be told what patrols they would be leading over the next month. He already knew he was to lead a patrol up North to a few farming villages, and yet the statement still had to be made official. Percival sighed. Councils were such dull affairs, yet necessary.

Nodding his acknowledgement to Gwaine, Percival began to walk towards him, forcing himself not to glance back at her through the window.

It was only a short trip to the council meetings from where Gwaine had found him. They walked side by side through the corridors, their blood-red cloaks billowing out behind them as Gwaine talked about how he reckoned some of the boys he was training were ready to take the oath and Percival bothered himself no more with the cold girl in the courtyard. She was someone else's concern. There was an unspoken acknowledgement and agreement between him and all the knights that she was Merlin's girl. Even if neither of them recognised it yet. Nonetheless, he still resolved to get Gwaine back for the 'lovesick' comment in training the next day.

* * *

_Just something short for now, love Elle x_


	6. Chapter 6

The circular silver pendant hung nicely against her dark collarbone, the light blue gems matching with the stitching of her dress perfectly. Her hair had been artfully pilled it to a graceful bun at the back of her head, silver beads woven into her curls. The dress she wore was of a deep Royal blue satin, as light as water against her skin with a wide collar that set her long, tight sleeves just off her shoulders. A few curls hung loose around her ears and the skin around her neck had been dabbed with lavender oil making her smell sweet.

"You've out done yourself." Guinevere smiled at her handmaiden through the reflection in the mirror.

The girl shrugged, but still looked pleased at the compliment. "I've done nothing, your Grace. It is your beauty alone that makes you shine. All I've done is made sure you don't turn up to court naked." Her brown eyes glinted mischievously at her through the large mirror.

Gwen tried to frown disapprovingly but failed, her smile as soft as ever at the girls teasing. She swivelled round in her chair to face her handmaiden, putting her back to her reflection.

"I try to compliment your work and you pay me back with jibes?" She raised an eyebrow. "You should learn to accept praise when it is given, not jest it off."

"And you, m'Lady," She gently caught Gwen's shoulders and turned her back round to face her reflection in the mirror, bending down and hovering her head above her right shoulder, a smile playing at her lips, "should learn that beauty does not lie in jewellery or in dresses, but in ourselves. I repeat; I have done nothing but dress you. _You _are what is beautiful."

Gwen warmed at the compliment and looked at her reflection again in the mirror. Her amber eyes were dancing in light of the candles and her cheeks were flushed slightly as she beamed at her appearance. She then looked at the blonde head over her shoulder and felt she understood what the girl was getting at. While her handmaiden did look tired and dishevelled, her odd assortment of clothes plain and simple; her freckled face still held colour in her cheeks and her brown eyes shone out her smile, radiating warmth off her like a hearth and Gwen believed that to be more beautiful than any dress of satin.

Her handmaiden reached for the crown on the dressing table in front of them and carefully placed it on Gwen's head, expertly adjusting her dark curls to sit around it elegantly. "There." She stood back to admire her handiwork. "Fit for a king." And the teasing glint in her eyes was back.

Gwen fought the urge to laugh at her handmaiden and stood up from her place at the dressing table, her blue skirt swirling around her as she rose. "Very funny, now what about you?"

A small frown creased between her eyebrows. "What about me?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Don't you wish to get ready?"

The girl cocked her head to the side, "what are you talking about your Grace?" She spread her arms wide, "I am ready."

Gwen looked at her maid patiently. "Rory," she stated calmly, "you are wearing Merlin's jacket, you do not have any shoes on, your hair is damp and messy and that is a man's dress shirt you have on over your dress, which is also damp and muddy. Plus that belt does not match." Her words were not cruel but practical with slight undertone of light humour.

Her maid shrugged again, a smile itching at the corners of her mouth. "I got caught up in the rain crossing the courtyard. I didn't have time to go change so I just grabbed a shirt out of the washing to cover up my dress and convinced Merlin to give me his jacket for warmth and to put my boots by the fire to dry while I came and served you." She subconsciously began to twiddle with a strand of damp hair, twirling it around her finger.

Gwen shook her head at her maid, serious now. "Well I appreciate your promptness in helping me get ready, but next time I'd rather you risk being late than risk a cold. Understand?"

Rory bowed meekly to her. "Aye, your Grace."

Gwen sighed. "And can you drop the dutiful serving maid act now, okay? I lose, you win; I miss you calling me Gwen. Now please," she gestured to the door, "_please_, go and prepare yourself for the Ceremony and dry off unless you wish to actually catch a cold."

Her maid glanced longingly at the door then looked back at Gwen, eyeing her. "You'll be alright on your own?"

"Arthur and Merlin should be turning up any minute. Now go, _go_." Gwen laughed. "Before your lips become any bluer!"

Rory held up her hands and laughed in return. "Alright! Aright! I'm leaving"

Leaving for the corridor at Gwen's urging, she turned and gave a final grin to her Queen causing her to bump into Arthur as he opened the door to his and Gwen's chambers.

"Oops, sorry your Highness." She quickly bowed to Arthur, who looked down at her in surprise at seeing her there, "Merlin," and nodded to Merlin who was standing right behind him.

She dodged through the wooden door and out of Gwen's sights and Arthur turned his head to watch her go. "So that's where your jacket went." He remarked to a jacket-less Merlin. "Wait, is she _barefoot?_"

Merlin shrugged, the only reply he seemed to have to his friend's weirdness nowadays and Gwen chuckled lightly. Rory may be strange at times, and very mysterious and secretive at others, but she sure did make Gwen smile and she kept her entertained through some of the more boring aspects of her life now. Plus she was extremely good at doing hair.

* * *

_When I started writing this story was only supposed to be a little one shot, my look into Camelot's morning Routine. However the story didn't seem to be quite done with me, so I continued it and even now I'm not quite sure where it is leading me too. But I would just like to say thank you to those who are following along with me and let us hope the journey is worth while._

_Love Elle x_


	7. Chapter 7

Merlin and Rory sat side by side on the marble steps before the great oak front doors of the castle. The courtyard before them was packed with people all taking refuge in the Citadel and camping out in any space they could find. Taking up the space to the left, were the piles of dead, surrounded by their mourning family.

"So the attack came out of nowhere then?" Rory said eventually, watching a group particularly close to them with glazed eyes. A woman knelt over a body, tear tracks streaking down her blood and mud splattered cheeks, a small boy at her side with eyes matching hers kept tugging on her dress and asking why his father wouldn't wake up.

"Yeah," Merlin replied hoarsely, watching the same scene. "A bunch of Saxons attacked the town of Herador in the early hours of the morning, burning the all the crops and slaughtering everyone in their path. They had the element of surprise on their side as well as skill with weapons. The villagers didn't stand a chance."

The boy's tugging became more violent and he began screaming at his mother who didn't seem to register him.

"These people only managed to escape because they saw the smoke on the horizon and heard the cries. Yet even with a head start, the Saxons still caught up with them." And Merlin gestured to the piles of dead.

The boy began kicking the body of his father pulling at him and shaking at him, screaming for him to wake up. His mother just sat there, staring into nothing.

"Why leave some alive?" Rory asked.

"To carry the message of the attack." Merlin replied darkly. "Arthur is in the war council right now, though I don't see what can be done. The Saxons have been and gone. There tracks will have been concealed and the two towns and their crop burned to the ground."

An old man couldn't seem to take it any more and he got up and led the poor child away from the dead corpse of his father, and the living corpse of his mother.

Rory remained silent for a moment looking over the tired, mud and blood splattered who had barely escaped with their lives. Eventually she spoke again, putting her thoughts to words.

"Herador and Gamthor are two major farming towns along with Mandor in the East. They are, _were_ some of the largest providers of wheat and barley Camelot has. The Saxons are attacking at our food source, shorting our supplies for basic things such as bread."

Merlin glanced at her. "You think they mean to starve us out?"

Rory sighed. "All I know is that we now have an entire village to house and feed, probably more by next week; I doubt the Saxons will stop with just these two villages. If Mandor is next on their list, we may find ourselves with less Corn as well. By the time the harvest comes, if it even does, we will have a Citadel bursting with refugees and half our usual supply of food." She glanced at the sky. "Winter is coming, Merlin. And I fear this year will be our harshest one yet."

Merlin closed his eyes to the courtyard taking in a deep breath and letting it out. "This is all Morgana's doing."

"Of course it is." Rory muttered. "I doubt the Saxons would have been clever enough to come up with such a plan without her."

Merlin snorted, though it sounded bitter. He opened his pale blue eyes and looked across at her. "Does Sir Kayne still think you are a sorcerer?"

Rory blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic, and looked up at the oak doors above them, where somewhere beyond, the now newly knighted Sir Kayne would be sitting in a war council along with the rest of the Knights.

"Aye," She said quietly. "He still thinks I'm a spy for Morgana too. And in the light of everything that's happened they'll be keeping an eye out for spies more than ever now. No doubt one of the people in front of us is a Saxon disguised as a refugee." She nodded in front of them and moved her gaze from person to person, as if by looking at them she would be able to determine which one is the spy.

"Do you think he will try to out you to the rest of the court?" He asked.

"Now would be the best time."

Merlin shook his head defiantly. "That doesn't mean they'll believe him. He has no proof."

Rory began picking at her feet. "He's a Knight of Camelot, Merlin. My word against his."

"You word is just as good as his." He replied hotly and she shot him a grateful look before clearing her throat.

"How is Sir Percival?"

Merlin glanced up at window overlooking the courtyard, concern crossing his face. "He's woken up at least, though his wound is infected and will take a while to heal. He won't be up and around all too soon, not if Gaius has anything to say about it. But he'll be alright."

"Where is Gaius?"

"War meeting."

Rory nodded. "It should be ending soon."

"Yeah."

They sat in silence once more, a breeze ruffling through them, each lost in their own thoughts. Around them, the cries of the mourning occupied the air, men, women and children all brought to Camelot looking for safety. Rory looked back at the castle for a moment, before turning to Merlin. "The council's broken up now. You should get going; Arthur will need you."

Merlin nodded and stood up, not asking how she knew. He had learned a long time ago not to ask. For asking questions of Orhea Meadows would get you nowhere. If he was patient enough, she would tell him in her own time. So instead, he held out his hand. "You coming? Gwen will need you just as much as Arthur needs me."

"I highly doubt that Merlin," Rory said with her first smile in what seemed like days, her muscles stiff beneath it. "There is no comparison to Arthur's need for you or your need for him."

Merlin rolled his eyes and pulled her to her feet. "You make us sound like soul mates." He muttered under his breath.

Rory bumped her shoulder against his as they started up the marble steps. "I think a best friend is the ultimate definition of a soul mate."

"Oh? And why is that?"

She looked up at him with large solemn eyes. "Because they are so special they don't need romance in order to be the other half of you."


	8. Chapter 8

There were forty-two panes of glass in his window to the east. Another forty-two in the one to the north. There were three cracks in the ceiling. Five in the walls. Three logs sat in the fireplace ready to be lit. Ten more in the basket beside it. There were nine candles dotted around his room. Four tapestries covered his walls, all together they held fifteen people, two lions, one dragon, three suns and one moon.

Percival cast his eyes about. Already he was running out of things to count. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, begging for sleep to come. If he could while away the long hours by sleeping it would be less boring, and he would not feel the pain.

God, he hated being wounded. He hated being so useless. He should be at the council or out protecting his people not stuck in bed left to own self-pity. He should have seen that bandit.

There came a soft rap at the door and it creaked open. Percival opened his eyes and looked up at his saviour. He was met with a small smile.

"We are to ride out shortly, so I cannot stay long; Arthur does not want to waste any more time."

Percival inclined his head to his friend, and pushed himself into a sitting position against the headboard, careful not to move his leg too much. The sheets slipped down off his bare torso to pool at his waist and he felt a chill in the room.

From his place by the threshold, Leon took this to mean enter and did, shutting the wooden door behind him and crossing the room, drawing up a chair by his bed. "How's the leg?" He asked.

"Good, the wounds not infected; Gaius has patched it well. I'm more likely to die of boredom from being cooped up in here. Either that or insanity" He banged his head back against the headboard causing a soft thud. "Stupid bandit." He muttered.

Leon looked over him sympathetically. "Well you must rest it if you wish to get better. How long before Gaius said you could walk on it?"

"As long as it takes, though should be around a couple days. And I have to take medicine for the pain."

Leon nodded and the two lapsed into silence before Percival rolled his head to look at his friend. "So what have I missed? The attack on two of the western Farming towns, what does Arthur plan to do? You said you were riding out?"

"Yes," Leon shifted forward on his seat, his face grim, "Scouts from the west returned early this morning, Herador is completely torched to the ground, most of its surrounding crop along with it. Gamthor, thankfully, is in much better shape. Abandoned and ransacked but at least the buildings still stand. Arthur is sending out men to the remaining farming areas for protection, as well as doubling the guards on the outlaying fortresses and patrols. I'm to take a small group of our finest trackers, and see if we can pick up any trails the Saxons have left and follow them. They may lead back to Morgana."

"That should be my job. I should be going with you."

Leon stood up. "Your only job now if to regain your strength, Percival. This attack is only the beginning. Arthurs fears there is worst yet to come, and better you be healthy for when it does." He clamped a hand down on Percival's shoulder and smiled. "I must go now, I will return to see you in a few days."

He nodded and returned the grip. "Ride safe."

And then Leon left as quickly as he had come. And Percival was left alone again. He decided to recount the panes on his window, just to double check he had got the number correct. Less than a minute later he discovered he had.

* * *

_Six hours later..._

Fire crackled into life in front of her as the logs finally caught alight. Rory shuffled backwards from the hearth, her task now complete and began to add some coal to the flames from a bucket by her side with wrought iron pincers.

Satisfied with her work, she got up off her knees and dusted off her skirts and hands. She bent and picked up the bucket of coal at her feet, turned around and gave a small start when blue eyes met her own, a gasp escaping from her lips.

"I'm sorry," The man in the bed immediately apologised, his mouth twitching into half a smile. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Forgive me, Sir." She replied, dropping her eyes. "I came to check on your fire and saw that it had gone out. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's alright," The knight replied, raising a hand. "Thank you."

Rory glanced up at him for a second and smiled. Sir Percival looked very tired, as he sat up in bed, the sheets that covered his legs ended at his waist. His torso covered by a simple, sleeveless undershirt that did up in loose little knots up the middle of his chest revealing a trail of skin of his stomach stretched over muscles. His arms were just as bare and muscular as usual, his collarbone held a purple bruise. But it was his face that caught her attention. Strong-jawed and straight nosed, matched with blonde close-cropped hair and light blue eyes, it was by no means an exaggeration to call him handsome.

Much like all the knights of Camelot, she mused in her head whilst simultaneously shrugging at him. "It's my job, Sir." She said. "Gwen asked me to tend to you in my spare time, make sure you get your food and medicine on time and all that. She wants us to help out Gaius as much as possible with all the refugees that are coming in and all. So he's got us tending to you lot with things such as food and heat while he and Merlin do the more healer-y side of things."

"I'm not a refugee."

"Aye but you still need tending too." Rory pointed out. "Gaius says you're not to walk on your leg yet, so I'm afraid things like making to your fire are going to have to be done by me for the time being. Or Merlin." She added hurriedly. "Or really any servant passing by to be honest, I mean it doesn't really have to be me, I'm sure someone might pop in at some point and-"

"Rory." The Knight interrupted, and she shut up, flushing. Why did she have to babble so much?

She could still feel him watching her from his bed as she stood there, semi-awkwardly, the coal bucket still in hand. "You can look at me you know." He said softly, and she did, though carefully, making sure she didn't do anything inappropriate like stare at his chest and drool.

"Will that be all, Sir?"

Percival smiled slightly. "And you don't need to be so formal all the time either. I've heard the way you speak with Merlin, so I know you're not always like this."

"Merlin isn't a Knight."

"Should it make all that difference? Rory we have known each other for over two years now. You've saved my life twice, I think it wouldn't be improper for you to call me Percival now and then"

She looked at him shrewdly. "You just want to know what your name sounds like with a Skylish accent."

He let out a short laugh and held up his hands. "Guilty."

She smiled and behind her the fire danced merrily in its grate. "Well then will that be all, _Sir Percival_?"

"Yes. Thank you, _Rory_."

She bowed her head, and turned to the door, but then his voice stopped her. "_Rory._" He repeated. "Is that short for anything?"

"Yes, Sir." She replied turning back. "Orhea, Sir. It's a kind of flower that grows on the Downs. Rory is a pet name from it."

"The down?.."

She smiled at his confusion. "It's an area in the middle of Skyla . Country, very hilly, where I was born. The flower is native to the ground there."

Percival nodded. "How come no one here calls you Orhea then?"

Rory shrugged, smile still in place but inside slight confusion etched through her. Since when had a Knight of Camelot ever been interested in her name? Or anyone for that matter. Down here, folks had always contributed her weird name for the fact she was from Skyla. Then she realised that Percival was trying to prolong her stay by asking her questions and after a few moments of surprise, and she understood why: sitting around in this room all day must be boring, but still she couldn't stay to humour him.

"I'm just called Rory that's all, Sir."

And she turned and left his room, quickly shutting the door behind her, before he could call her back. Letting out a large breath, she sagged back against the wood, closing her eyes. In her chest, her beat faster than she should have liked. "_Get a grip girl,_" She muttered to herself in Skylish, the native and first tongue of the Downs. "_He ain't why you're here._"

On the other side of the door, Percival thudded his head back onto the headboard. Boredom was already seeping back into him and his leg ached dully, but at least the maid had caused for some distraction. _Orhea_, he thought to himself, not really thinking but yet his head was full of her name.

_Orhea. _

_Rory._

_Meadows._

Heat from her fire washed over him, and slowly he began to fall back to sleep, listening to the fire crackle as if it were a lullaby. If he had not been half asleep he would have sworn it was actually singing to him.

Walking down the Castle corridors, pale of coal swinging by her side, the Skylish Handmaiden hummed to herself, the flaming torches on the walls burning brighter as she past.

* * *

_Originally two chapters but I felt bad that one was so short so I combined them. Hope you enjo_y_ed, Love Elle x_


	9. Chapter 9

The Moon shone high in the sky, illuminating the smoking rooftops of the lower town and the cream, smooth stone of the citadel. Gwen stood at her window, gazing out at the horizon, using the light o the moon and the few torches down below to see. In her chest, she felt the same deep pang she got whenever Arthur was away. A mixture of worry and longing that washed through her like the ocean on a shoreline. Her entire chest seemed heavy and ached but at the same time her mind was completely clear. It was a strange feeling, and one that she did not miss when her beloved returned.

"I'm sure he'll be fine Gwen."

The soft, comforting voce is what roused her and she finally turned from the window to look at her handmaiden standing by the bed, her face glowing in the light of the warm golden candles.

"I know," Gwen replied, "yet I just can't help but worry. It's silly of me, I know. Arthur's fully capable of looking after himself."

Rory raised an eyebrow and half smiled, "And yet every time he rides away you still can't help wonder if that will be the last time you see him. Every time he disappears over that horizon you wonder if he will ever reappear again. And thought consumes you, every waking second is spent thinking of him and you hate how helpless you are and at the same time feel kind of pathetic, like one of those damsels in stories who you dislike so much so you carry on as if he were here and distract yourself and sometimes it works but then at the end of the day you are alone in your bed and the shadows are creeping in and your minds turns back to the dark thoughts that you spend all day trying to repress. "

Gwen stared at the Skylish girl, not for the first time marvelling at her wisdom. "That is exactly it" she said, surprise etching her voice. "It's like you have felt the same way."

"You forget, your Grace," Rory said, pulling the covers back on Gwen side of the bed and fluffing the pillows, "before I came to Camelot I lived in a warzone for six years. There were days, many of them, where I wondered if that day was going to be my last, if that was the last piece of bread I was ever going to eat, if that was the last time I saw my brother or my friend ride off into the sunset."

Gwen climbed into the bed suddenly feeling silly; of course Rory had been thinking of the Skylan civil war. It was so easy for her to forget that she came to Camelot escaping it, but it was also easy to forget the Skylan war itself. Rory hardly ever spoke of it and barely anyone this far south really knew anything about it. If Gwen was perfectly honest with herself she hardly knew much about the Kingdom either let alone its rebellion.

She now looked upon her servant in a more curious light. Rory didn't seem shaken or upset, like you might expect a veteran of war; her expression was neither distant nor suffering but rather as calm as ever.

But still, Gwen chose her next words carefully, for it was very rare for Rory to even mention her past and Gwen did not want to scare her off the subject, curiosity finally getting the better of her. "You mentioned a brother, did he fight in the war?"

Rory's eyes snapped to her own. "Aye," She said and then after a pause she added rather hurriedly, as if she was afraid of what Gwen would think, "he was a rebel."

"A rebel?" Gwen's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "He fought against the King?"

Rory's face darkened. "He has his reasons," she muttered defensively and Gwen knew that there would be no more questions for that night. Rory blew out some of the candles leaving the few on the bed side table and turned to leave. Gwen watched her retreating back until she reached the heavy oak door, pulling it open when her curiosity got the better of her and she called out:

"What is he like? Your brother." Rory turned to look at her and Gwen hurried on, "It's just you've never mentioned him before. I always thought you were an only child."

Rory surveyed her queen for a moment before answering slowly, leaning back against the door frame. "My brother and I are very different and yet similar, if that makes sense. We used to be extremely close when we were children but I guess we slowly drifted apart as we grew older. Evan is..."

And it was now that the faraway look became glazed across her brown eyes as she stared off into a place where Gwen would never see, racking her brains for the right word before saying decidedly, "Noble, in his own way. He values loyalty and friendship, and is a skilled fighter and has a knack for judging whether a man can be trusted or not. He used to be really fun and carefree, with a bit of a mischievous streak, but I suppose he grew out of that.

"He's cleverer than he looks but at the same time is a bit of an idiot, yet he has said some of the wisest and most inspirational things I've ever heard, though unintentionally. He doesn't really think through what he says before he says it, and really lives in the moment, which makes planning for the future annoying to him, cause he just prefers to wing most of the time, bit like my friend Gendra. Stick them two together on a battle field and they're a force to reckon with let me tell you. They used to call him Stormsword 'cause of it.

"Through it all though, he is a good man, with good intentions, who has had a bad life and has had so much responsibility and duty shoved onto him that he has made some bad decisions because of it. But he is learning. He's getting there."

She looked now at Gwen a light smile on her face, though it seemed to be hiding something behind it. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you Rory." Gwen replied and Rory half bowed and left the room. It was only when the door shut that Gwen realised what her maid had been hiding was sadness, and immediately felt guilty that she had asked.

Walking back to her own chambers, Rory frowned and shook her head as if to clear herself of the heaviness weighing in her heart and the immense guilt that surrounded it. "_Remember he's also a massive asshole" _She muttered as if by way of excuse.

But still the feeling stayed, and that night the nightmares returned, much to the annoyance of the servants in the surrounding quarters. As walls can only be so thick, but then again, screams can only be so loud.

* * *

Twenty Leagues away, under a heavy mass of constant grey clouds that promised rain, Evan Stormsword opened his eyes. Echos of that familiar scream rang through his head and ears and his heart thudded frantically in his chest. And in his minds eyes he could still see those large brown eyes, so much like his own, filled with that look. That desperate, scared and apologetic look. He gulped then let out a shaky breathe, staring instead into the smoking campfire at the center of the camp. And that was when far above, unknown to him, Arthur made the signal and he and the knights advanced down onto the sleeping Saxon camp, creeping silently.

A few moments later all thoughts of his long dead sister left his mind immediately as he grabbed his sword and turned to the first red cloak he saw.

It began to rain heavily, thunder roaring and lightning flashing and the camp fire was completely extinguished. Evan swung his sword with a quiet rage, blood splattering onto his face...

* * *

_Love Elle x_


	10. Chapter 10

_I would like to apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes in advance, this one was written in quite a rush._

* * *

"Does anyone else think there is something really familiar about him?"

Merlin and Leon didn't need to ask who Gwaine was talking about and as one they all turned on their horses and glanced at the man walking behind the group, his hands bound with a piece of rope that was tied to Elyan's reins.

"I mean something really, _really_ familiar." Gwaine rambled on. "Like we've seen him before."

"Perhaps in a battle" Merlin suggested stiffly and over his shoulder, his eyes now on Arthur at the front. He had ridden on slightly ahead of the other knights, jaw constantly set and shoulders rigid. He'd been like that for the entire journey back to Camelot; tense and unsociable. But then again, none of the other Knights were really in the mood to talk either Leon noted. Well except for Gwaine.

"But you see, the thing is, I _know_ I have never seen that man before in my life. And none of you have either. And yet I _know_ I have seen him before."

Leon and Merlin rode on without replying. When Leon first met Gwaine, he used to think that the best way to shut him up was to simply not answer him and so the conversation would fade out. Only he'd soon discovered that Gwaine would just simply fill his silence with more talking. Now he didn't reply because he couldn't muster the energy to engage with Gwaine at that time. Not when they had just lost one of their own. Not when his own horse was carrying him and the dead body of Sir Caradoc.

"Is nobody in the least bit bothered by this?" Gwaine cried out, looking at each Knight and Merlin in turn, disbelief etching his voice.

From the back Eylan sighed. "If it's bothering you that much why not next stop take off his gag and ask him?"

"No." And it was now Leon spoke. "The Saxon is to be interrogated in the Court of Camelot where he will answer for his crimes." And he looked down at the dead body placed carefully across his lap and the horse, weighing down his legs.

This silenced the knights as they became solemn once again, many looking up at the back of their King as he rode steadily and purposely in front. Riding home. But then again, Gwaine was rarely silent if not solemn.

"It's the eyes." He said as if that ended the matter. "I know those eyes, and yet I don't"

Leon made a noise in the back of his throat and resisted the urge to throw up his hands. The most annoying part of Gwaine was that he was so annoyingly _right_. That man- that _Saxon_, had killed Caradoc, one of their most skilled fighters, without even breaking a sweat, _was_ familiar. And Leon knew that he had seen him before, but at the same time, the Saxon held a strangers face. Features that were so close to being known and yet he had never seen them until that day. It frustrated him to say the least, and Gwaine certainly wasn't helping matter.

"And those markings on his arm" Gwaine carried on, thinking out loud. "I have seen them before as well. Perhaps in a book..."

Leon looked round at this, frowning. He hadn't noticed anything on the Saxons arms when he'd tied his wrists together. But as he was looking now, the strange black runes and swirls stuck out brightly on the Saxons muddy and dust ridden forearms, winding up and out of sight underneath the rolls of his worn blue shirt, like fresh ink on parchment. When Leon saw them then, he became certain that they defiantly hadn't been there that morning- he would have remembered Markings like that. Then Leon looked at the man's face, their eyes connecting for a second and that was when he knew something was wrong.

"Stop."

The ordered came from Merlin who had pulled his horse to a stand and was jumping off it. Gwaine hurried to pull his horse too, so as not to bump into Merlin's. Leon signalled to his own horse and turned in his saddle to stare at Merlin, who was rushing to the Saxon.

"What is it?" Elyan asked, dismounting.

"He's injured." Merlin replied and gestured to the fresh wet stain that was spreading across the man's shirt. Now that defiantly had not been there before Leon thought as he and Gwaine also dismounted.

Merlin reached the Saxon just as he began to fall and caught him, staggering under his weight till Elyan appeared and they slowly lowered the man to the ground. Leon reached them as Merlin was pulling up the man's shirt to reveal as large gash across the Saxons stomach and immediately he went into action calling out instructions for them to get his kit.

The Man's gag had been removed and his mouth was frothing, his eyes moving back and forth all over the place like he was having a fit. All along his chest and shoulder, the intricate dark runes painted his skin that was over wise covered in bruises and battle scars. But it was the chain around his neck that caught Leon's attention. Or rather what was handing from it. He had seen that amulet before. He had seen that symbol before.

And unlike the origins of this Saxon, he knew where he recognised it from; in an old text book of signets and coats of Arms, one which he had been made to study as a child. This Saxon was wearing the Amulet of Airein. The signet of the House of The Storm Lords.

"How did he get injured?" Elyan asked, not noticing the amulet. "He was fine three minutes ago."

Merlin just shook his head grimly. None of them asked the Saxon what had happened, knowing that he was in so state to answer. By the time Arthur had come back to see what was holding them up, the Saxon had fainted from blood loss, but not before they had heard him muttering in Skylan.

"Vaimere tu dreean" He'd repeated over and over. "Vaimere tu dreean. Vaimere tu dreean, mea Rosra" And then the light in his eyes went.

A gust of autumn wind blew over them, strong and harsh, Leon could feel going straight through him, and then the blast of wind was gone.

* * *

Two hundred leagues to the North, a knight in a leather jerkin sat alone deep in the middle of a forest. The rest of his hunting party had long moved on, chasing the silver stag leagues away by now, completely oblivious to his absence, all caught up in the thrill of the chase. He was almost inconspicuous, wrapped up in his thick green cloak amongst the roots of the large oak tree which were larger than his own limbs. Leaning against the tree next to him was his shield, white with a red cross.

He looked as if he were sleeping, eyes closed and breathing deeply. His handsome face was almost peaceful as he breathed in and out and with each breathe he seemed to melt backwards into the tree becoming more and more invisible. Unseen to the eyes of the forest, his large tattooed hands were spread across his stomach, applying pressure to the bleeding wound.

The trees around him began to rustle within the wind, their branches creaking as the wind whistled by them. The Knight opened his eyes slowly, and looked to the skies.

"I'm alright" He murmured, his words slurring. "Just didn't see it coming." With each word the knight was sinking further and further back into the tree, his hair no longer distinguishable from the trunk and his skin darkening and roughening up like the bark. "Go check on the others" And then he fainted for real, his mind giving up on consciousness and the tree consumed him.

The wind blew on.

* * *

North again, along the stormy mountain range and down into a hidden valley and across an ancient castle. In the centre of a cobbled courtyard, veiled women in dark robes knelt in a large circle, chanting. Holding each other's hands, their eyes were half closed as they spoke together in the same foreign tongue. In the centre of their circle, on a stone table with ancient runes etched along the side, lay a beautiful woman, her long silver hair and white dress spread out beneath her. Across her pale bared skin, black symbols, similar to those craved into the table, glowed, emitting a golden light. From the woman's stomach, blood seeped, spreading across her dress and staining it.

The wind whistled through the Haven of Sorceresses who raised their voices to meet it, and the seemingly dead woman on the table smiled faintly.

_Gendra's here._

_Tell her to stop wasting energy._

_Can't. Not strong enough. _

She never heard the reply.

And thousands of leagues away, Florien felt her presence leave him. The light had been extinguished and he was left to the shadows, but he didn't mind. He sat back in his chair and smoked his pipe, trying to ignore the waves of pain that came from his heavily bandaged chest. The shadows in his cellar room began to grow and form shapes but he took no notice and a draft came in through the shut door but he ignored that too. Instead he focussed his mind back on to the white sorceress, as whenever he thought of her the pain lessened.

* * *

Across eastern ocean, in a small fishing town off the coast of Gallica, lay a sailor slumped unconscious in an alleyway next to an inn. He was shirtless, the rough woollen waistcoat he usually wore had been pressed against his stomach in an attempt to stop the blood flow. His tanned, sea worn skin was covered in black tattoos that seemed to almost _glow_. The stench of ale, sea salt and vomit emanated off him as well as something that the elders of the Town would have called death. Those who saw him assumed him dead, and so assumed that someone else would deal with his body, as none wanted get involved for it looked like someone had gutted the bugger and made off with his coin, for he had no shoes or belt and wasn't breathing.

The constant breeze off the sea rustled down that alleyway, rustling his plain, colourless hair. And quite suddenly he took a large, gasping breath.

* * *

Back in the five Kingdoms, high up in a Tower, hidden from sight, the female prisoner slumped forwards in relief and exhaustion dark hair falling across her face. Though she collapsed, she never hit the floor as the heavy metal cuffs round her wrists that chained her arms high above her head stopped her. She rolled her head back up to look at the woman before her, eyes carefully cool.

Morgana smirked. In her hand she held a small doll made of straw with a long lock of dark curly hair wrapped around it, the straw had been cut along the stomach by the stake in her other hand. Blood dripped onto the floor beneath the chained woman.

The women locked gazes and Morgana raised the knife back to the doll and held it poised, smiling with amusement that did not reach her eyes.

"How about I stab you in the heart?"

"How about you loosen these chains and we settle this the old fashioned way." Her prisoner replied, her face and voice a careful mask of bravado and cockiness. "No magic, no tricks. Just you and me. One on one. Woman to woman. Sexy to psychotic."

Morgana continued to smile. "But where would be the fun in that?"

And she stabbed the stake right through the dolls stomach.

Her prisoner screamed.

* * *

Over in Camelot, Gaius sat calmly in his quarters, reading over one of his books. A heavy silence shrouded him: a combination of Merlin's absence, his own worry and the cause that had led him to read this book. An ancient book it was, large and fully of spiralling text with elaborate swishes and flicks with beautiful and delicate drawings of the most intricate detail. The book was not of sorcery, nor of magic, and one that Gaius had not read in a very long time.

But the silence was broken, shattered quite suddenly as the heavy wooden door to his chamber was burst open to reveal the Queen standing there, panting, hair askew and hands covered in blood.

"It's Rory," She gasped. "Gaius it's happening again."

* * *

_Wow okay, quite a bit in this chapter. I don't cant tell if I've revealed to much or not. Or if it's even worked... You guys tell me what you think._

_Thanks for the reviews. Love Elle x_


	11. Chapter 11

_My apologies for the delay in updating. Writer's block sucks balls._

* * *

Merlin's footsteps echoed around him as he walked through the castle. Night had long descended and there was nobody about in the long stone corridors, lit by the warm glows of the torches. Merlin's mind was miles away as he slowly navigated his way up the steep stair cases.

The Saxon prisoner was resting in Gaius's chambers; they'd brought him back to Camelot after discovering his wound and had treated him thus. When the knights and Merlin had first discovered him bleeding, there had been some confusion as to the cause. It was not until Percival had spotted a small throwing knife on the ground covered in blood that they'd come to the conclusion that the man had had a knife hidden in his shirt and was planning on throwing it at one of them, when he'd stumbled and cut himself open. It was the only explanation that would fit as to why a perfectly fit man would just suddenly collapse to the ground with a large gash across his stomach.

But after they'd noticed the tattoos, Sorcery was also put up for an explanation. Arthur had originally pushed that idea away, saying that if the Saxon was a sorcerer then why didn't he use his magic to escape or kill them and why harm himself instead. But then when his wound began to heal itself at remarkable speed, suddenly the Saxon was charged with Sorcery as well as treason and the murder of a Knight.

But there was something else, something Arthur and the Knights didn't know. Before the man had collapsed, Merlin had sensed something. He was still not quite sure what it was, a presence almost. Like a voice on the wind. More particularly a woman's voice, shouting. Warning.

And another voice, a familiar one, chanting in a language known all too well to him. And he knew, unexplainably that it was Morgana. At that moment, seven different voices all cried out in pain, Merlin could hear them in his head, he could feel their pain, their shock and he'd felt something pulling him backwards towards the Saxon, knowing in his heart that something was horribly, dreadfully wrong. And then one thought crossed his mind: help. And he did, his entire mind becoming centered on keeping that man alive.

And it terrified him. Until then he'd thought that it was his destiny to protect only Arthur, but when he saw the Saxon on the ground it was almost as if pure instinct had taken over and he'd felt that if the man died it would be like part of himself dying, which had been an emotion he'd only ever experienced with Arthur.

It confused him to no end. In fact everything about the Saxon confused Merlin. He knew that Sorcery was the cause of his wound as he had heard Morgana casting the incantation, and when he told Gaius later on, he'd agreed with him. Not for one second did Gaius believe that the Saxon had cut himself trying to throw a knife, just like he didn't believe that Rory had slipped while carrying a broach and had wounded herself.

Nor did Merlin and he think it was a co-incidence that the Saxon and Rory had completely identical wounds gained, at what they estimated was around the same time. Neither was it a co-incidence that both he and Rory had identical tattoos covering their bodies that only appeared after they were injured, or that they had both healed remarkable quickly or that they looked similar.

Aye, it had confused them to say the least and for the first time ever Gaius didn't have an explanation for it. That being rare in itself. And so Merlin carried on being confused and concerned, not only for the fate of the man, but also of Rory's. He needed answers. Now would have been a perfect time for him to call Kilgarrah, except there was something else he needed to do too.

Cold air whipped at his face as he clambered through the window and onto the roof where he and Rory had sat what seemed an age ago and watched the eclipse. How she'd known about the eclipse was just one of the hundreds of questions he wanted to ask her.

She sat with her back to him and the castle, facing the night. A single burning torch lay at her side, illuminating her blond hair that for once hung loose around her shoulders. She still wore the thin bed robe that Gwen had changed her into with her brown shall wrapped loosely around her shoulders. It was clear that she must have woken up and come straight here.

"You shouldn't be out here you know." He said to her back. "You'll catch a cold."

Rory made a small sound that sounded like a snort and Merlin took that as a responsive sign that she was safe to talk to and went and sat down next to her, his muscles protesting. After riding hard and non-stop all day who could blame them? Merlin shivered as a small gust of autumn wind blew past. Silently Rory scooted herself closer to him and rested her head on his shoulder. Immediately warmth began to radiate off where they were touching and began to spread around his body like wild fire. That was another thing about Rory; she was always impeccable warm no matter what her surroundings.

"We were worried about you, you know." Merlin broke the silence again. "Just disappearing off like that. We're all looking for you. Gwen doesn't know what to think and Gaius isn't what to tell her."

For a while Rory didn't say anything. But eventually she cleared her throat. "How much did she see?"

"Just you on the floor bleeding without any cause to. It looked like you'd been slashed in the stomach only there wasn't anything sharp around. Gaius managed to convince her though that you must have slipped and cut yourself with a broach or something and that it must have fallen out of sight."

Rory nodded her head against his shoulder but said nothing so Merlin continued, a little frustrated. "They managed to get you back to Gaius's chambers before anything started to happen. Gaius got Gwen out the room before then so she saw nothing."

Again she remained silent. Frustrated Merlin burst out, "Rory this has happened twice before and you haven't told us anything. Gaius and I can't keep covering for you when we ourselves don't have a clue whats going on! All you say is that it isn't sorcery and then you pretend like nothing has happened yet still spend the next few weeks in a mood! Rory, if you don't trust us enough to tell us _how_ then the least you can do is tell us _why_. Gaius only just managed to get Gwen out of the room in time, a couple more seconds and she would have seen and what would you have done then?... Rory?"

Rory let out a sigh but made no move to talk much to his chagrin. Merlin gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his hair. If she wanted to avoid the subject then fine, but he wasn't. He was sick and tired of dodging around the point.

"Those markings on your skin," He started and immediately felt her stiffen next to him.

"They are just normal tattoos Merlin." She said softly, fidgeting against him.

He turned his head down to look at her and matching her tone, whispered, "Normal tattoos don't glow when you are dying Orhea."

Rory swallowed and didn't meet his gaze.

"Please Rory," he begged. "Tell me what they are."

Silence. He pressed on.

"They only appear when you are injured right? Rest of the time they are invisible?"

Silence. _God she's stubborn as a mule._

"The runes, Gaius says they are ancient Skylish..."

Silence.

Irritation.

"Are you the only one with them?" He tried again though he already knew the answer.

In the back of his mind he thought about the Saxon now sleeping in Gaius's chambers under heavy guard. But she wouldn't know about him, at least that he was here in the castle. And then in a sudden flare of defiance Merlin decided not to tell her. If she didn't want to tell him anything then fine, he wouldn't tell her anything. He looked back to the night sky again, diverting his attention to the stars.

"There are seven of us."

For a moment it was as if no-one has spoken at all, her voice was so quiet. She refused to look at him, but carried on staring ahead.

"When I was thirteen, all throughout Skyla children were going missing and then turning up a few days' later dead. No one knew what was happening, or who was talking the children, only that they didn't care about class. Rich, poor, noble or street rat: younglings disappeared in their hundreds between the ages of ten and sixteen."

"It happened where I lived as well." He murmered, his voice horse and Rory glanced up at him. "I was ten and there were loads of rumours coming through with travellers on the road that children were going missing. My mother was so afraid I would be taken, I was banned from leaving the village. All of us were."

Rory nodded. "I was living in Orleans at the time." She said. "The biggest city in Skyla not counting the Capitol. You've probably heard of it as the City of Trade, or the Green City. And um, well there, I think about three hundred children were snatched overall, including a friend of mine called Esme, she was only eleven. Well being who we were, the rest of my friends and I went after her and we managed to get right under the mountain- that was where all the children were being held but, we got caught at the last moment."

She took a deep breath and sat up to face him. "The people who had been taking the children were priests, part of this ancient Skylish/Romani/Gallician cult which dates back way before the start of the old religion. Don't ask me to pronounce their name- I can't. But um, they were taking children from all over because they were on a quest for their 'God'. They were looking for specific people and the runes were supposed to find them, only the runes would only work on the adolescent, hence children. And well," She sifted uncomfortably, then looked him in the eye and Merlin saw deep sorrow there. Her eyes seemed to have aged a thousand years as she said,

"Out of the thousands of children taken and tested, my friends and I are the only ones who survived the runes being put on us, the rest were all killed. Even so... Merlin... sometimes I wish I hadn't lived. I really wish I hadn't."

Tears were falling down her face now and her voice shook. He made to touch her but she pulled away and shook her head. And Merlin got the message: she needed to finish her story.

"It felt like...fire. Like my entire body was on fire. It was pain beyond pain, Merlin. I lay there screaming for what seemed like days while all these people in hoods stood and chanted around me. I wanted to die so badly, I wanted the pain to end it was all I could think about. I was _thirteen_. But I survived. So did six others. And ever since, whenever we are close to death the tattoos on our skin light up and glow and heal us. We have no control over it." She looked down at her feet. "_I hate it._"

"But, if they heal you then-"

"I can't die." She finished and stared at him. "Merlin, I _can't die_."

The air around them became heavier of the gravity of her words hit him.

"Do- do you want to die?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"Sometimes." She whispered after what seemed an age. She sniffed. "But Merlin you have to promise not to tell anyone of this. If Arthur or Gwen found out that I have magic invisible symbols on my skin that heals me when I'm bleeding I don't know what would happen but it won't be good." She laughed nervously and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Of course. I won't say a word." Merlin promised while his mind went a hundred leagues an hour.

"Thank you." She whispered. "I'm so sorry to compromise you like this. But I swear I'm not a sorceress. And the runes aren't sorcery either, I mean they are _magic _but then again everything is but you probably don't know much about that so I swear I am not evil or working for Morgana or the Old Religion or-"

"_Orhea!_" Merlin shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and staring her in the eye. She gulped and bit her lip. Merlin let out a shaky laugh and dropped his forehead to hers. Slowly she closed her eyes, breathing deeply and brought her hands up to clutch at his jacket.

"Why didn't you just tell me all this before." He asked. "Instead of act all secretive."

"I wasn't sure how you would react." She murmured. "It's not every day you find out that your best friend was part of an experiment that caused the death of thousands of children. And anyway it's not just my secret to tell, there are six others involved as well."

Merlin's mind went back to the Saxon, who now that he thought about it, probably wasn't even a Saxon. Dread ran down Merlin spin as he thought of the charges that man was under and the trial that was supposed to go on tomorrow, the one that was predicted to end with the noose. Rory, seeming to sense something opened her eyes, and looked at him, her brown eyes wide and worried. Merlin looked into those eyes and felt a sickening dread as he realised they were the exact same eyes as the Saxon's.

"About that..." He started, "Rory-"

But his words were cut off at the deafening clang of a bell that rang throughout the entire city. Both theirs head snapped round at the sound as they listened to the rings.

"It's the warning bells." Merlin said numbly. "Three rings that means-"

"FIRE!" Rory shouted jumping to her feet. "In the Lower town. Come on."

Merlin looked round saw that there was indeed a fire blazing up in the small distance. He had to find Arthur. And he got up and ran after Rory, leaping through the window and into the castle, all thoughts of tomorrow out of his mind as he and the Skylish Handmaiden headed towards the lower town.

* * *

_Unfortunately I do not feel this chapter has been as good as some of the last but I needed to give you guys an update before I go on holiday so I'm afraid this will be the last chapter for a few weeks. I will try and update a bit more regularly when I get back._

_As bad as it is, I hope you enjoy this character, a bit more background info has been given. Leave a review as to what you think and if you've picked up on any of my hints yet._

_I'm sorry if there are any typos, please tell me if so._

_Love Elle x_


	12. Chapter 12

_Its been a while I know, but here you go. Apologies in advance for any typos, missed out words and bad grammar, I did proof read but still._

* * *

She took a deep breath, Hal could feel her chest rising up and then she let it out; it was like a just of warm wind, hot and smoky. But a good kind of smoky. Her arm was around him, holding him still from his tears and sobs, making him feel warm and at home. He wasn't embarrassed for crying, for clinging to her like a babe, in front of all these men. Big strong knights, whom he aspired to be like. They weren't crying, but were just as exhausted as him.

And then she began to sing for him, her voice pure and soft, a lullaby and he sat and listened, tears still forming.

_Of all the money that e'er I had,_

_I've spent it in good company._

All in ear shot stopped and turned, watching the maid as she sung to the innkeeper's boy. Hal ignored them all, eyes only for her and his minded wondered back to the fire...

The inn was on fire, smoke thick, blinding, trapping, suffocating. Hal tried to shout, to cry for help, from where he sat in the corner, clutching his baby sister, but the smoke filled his lungs and made him cough too much. Outside people were shouting, screaming, his mothers voice reaching for him from outside, screeching for her babes. He wanted to shout back. He wanted to cry in her arms. But it was too hot to cry. Sweltering hot.

_And all the harm that e'er I've done,_

_Alas it was to none but me__._

And then she was there. Smoke and fire parting to let her through, her grazed frantic, face covered in ash and soot. She looked straight at him. _"What the hell are you still doing in here?"_

_And all I've done for want of wit,_

_To memory now I can't recall__._

Hal didn't reply, just shrunk back in fear as she crossed the room to him. She crouched down, face now soft. "_You're the innkeepers boy aren't you?"_

Hal nodded, face crumbling with sobs unable to be restrained any longer. At the sight of his tears, the woman hugs him quickly, careful not to squish the babe between them and speaks in a soft voice, hushing, reassuring. Hal forgot the fire and the smoke, his world suddenly taken up by this woman, who is calm and assured and not afraid.

"_Shh, shh. It's okay, it's alright. I'm here now, the fire won't hurt you, you're gonna be okay. What's your name_?"

"_Hal_"

"_Is this your sister Hal_?"

"_She won't wake up. Mama told me to look after her if anything happened but now she won't wake up no matter what I do. Why won't she wake? Please you have to help her. Please, _please_. Help her_."

She placed her hand on the side of Fara's neck and her face became sad. She looked Hal in the eye, and he would never forget her expression for as long as he lived.

"_I'm sorry, Hal. There is nothing I can do._"

_So fill to me the parting glass__,_

_Good night and joy be with you all._

Gwaine sat, in the aftermath of the night, a mug of ale in his hand, with his brothers and some of the towns people who had helped extinguish the flames, listening to Rory as she sang. He'd heard the song before, in his days as a wondering sword when his feet had taken him North up to Skyla, he had heard the song in taverns at the base of the mountain border. He'd also heard Rory sing before, in the mornings, at night, under her breath when she thought no one was listening, but none of that compared to now, when she sung for the people, loud and clear, for the boy who she'd saved in the fire. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting her voice wash through him.

_Of all the comrades that e'er I had__,_

_They are sorry for my going away_

The smoke had been intense, as he'd stood on the upstairs floor on the landing, an unconscious woman over his shoulder. Most of the civilians had evacuated the building but some had gotten stuck. Gwaine coughed, his eyes watering as he looked around through.

"_Is that everyone_?" He shouted.

"_Yeah I think_," Elyan replied, ducking his head to cough. Around them the walls creaked. The wooden floor splintering beneath them, the fire downstairs finally begins to creep upwards.

"_Then let's get the hell out of here before the whole place collapses_." Gwaine yelled, his heart thudding in his chest louder than anything else, the woman weighing heavily on his shoulder. He followed Elyan back through the smoking corridors to the stairs.

"_I don't think we'll be able to make it back though the downstairs- The fires too intense_."

"_Well we can't stay here. We'll have to run for it_."

_And all the sweethearts that e'er I had_

_They would wish me one more day to stay_

Then a beam form overhead cracked and fell, causing him to jump backwards out the way while Elyan dived forward and onto the creaking wooden stairs to which the fire was slowly spreading upwards towards his boots.

"_Gwaine?_" He heard him shout through the thick haze, panic in his voice.

"_I'm fine_." He yelled out, his voice deep and hoarse. He looked at the damage the fallen beam had done: breaking through the wooden floor and falling to the fires beneath. The gaping hole it had created was to wide for Gwaine jump, and he didn't like the look of the floor on the over side connected to the top of the stairs. Forget the roof falling in it was the floor beneath him that he was suddenly worried.

"_Gwaine I can't stay here long._" Elyan shouted helplessly.

"_Go!_" Gwaine told him. "_Just go. I'll find another way out._"

He heard no more, which he prayed to god was a good thing and he turned back down the Inn's twisting corridor, re-adjusting the Lady on his shoulder and headed back the way he'd came his mind set on the hope of there being a back staircase.

_But since it falls unto my lord_

_That I should rise and you should not_

When he rounded the corner they stopped short at the sight of one another. He, with his heated armour, and sweat soaked hair, wheezy breathed and desperate. She, hair and dress singed, face darkened with soot, clutching a bundle of cloth and linen to her chest in one arm, her other gripping tight to a boy, sweating and snot nosed, whose chins was trembling as she dragged him along.

"_What are you doing in here Meadows?"_

"_Same as you_." She snapped back, business like and harsh, this was not time for small smiles and teasing.

"_You shouldn't be in here, you could get hurt._" Gwaine shouted, suddenly angry, thinking that now he had another person to worry about.

Rory frowned. "_Well it's too late now, I'm here and we have to get out. The back stairs are jacked, please for the love of God tell me_-"

"_Front stairs no good either. A beam broke the floor, it's wide to jump. I could probably throw the kid across_-"

"_No! He's not leaving me. Anyway down stairs is too vicious he'd never make it to the door._"

"_So we're trapped_?" The boy asked, voice quaking. He'd been following their shouting match, large eyes darting between him and Rory as each spoke. "_There's no way out_?"

Rory's face turned steely. "_Lesson number one kid, there is _always_ a way out_."

"_Then please_, enlighten us." Gwaine yelled, his voice condescending and snarky, the Lady's weight on his shoulder was really starting to hurt. "_We can't stay here long. The floors gonna give way any second and I don't even want to think about the roof_."

Rory looked around and Gwaine could practically _hear_ her thinking. He didn't stop to think that is should be the other way round: that she should be looking to him for a solution, an idea. He was the Knight after all.

"_C'mon_" Rory shouted suddenly, a plan clearly in her head. And she ducked into the nearest room, dragging the kid and Gwaine followed hot on her heels.

It's one of the private bedrooms, where richer guests who stay at the inn sleep. The bed took up most of the room, with a dresser in the corner and singular wooden chair. As soon as they entered the room the smoke seemed to disperse and Gwaine could suddenly breathe a heck lot better than he should have in a building on fire. But he still felt as if he's roasting alive in his armor.

Rory had let go of the Kid by the bed, and left him clutching the bundle while she moved to the only window in the room, one which overlooked the street below. Gwaine could already see what her plan may be, and he laid the woman down on the body, taking the chance to check her pulse while Rory tried to open the window.

The latch on the shutter got stuck, and for all her avail, Rory couldn't get it open, so she used the chair to break it, Gwaine looking up just in time to see her swinging at the wooden blockers across the window. The chair disappeared through the window and onto the streets below, the shouting from outside becoming louder. Rory then grabbed hold of the curtain rail nailed to the wall above the window, and hoisted herself up, her back muscles tensing through her tattered dress, and she kicked away at any of the remaining shutter, clearing them path through devoid of splinters before dropping nimbly back onto the floor.

Gwaine stared at her. "_If we survive this I'm buying you a drink_."

Rory glanced at him over her shoulder, her mouth curving slightly in a way that was familiar, like her usual self. "_You'll have to find a new tavern then_."

And then she stuck her head and shoulders through the window and shouted out to the bedlam in the street below. "_OI!_"

_I'll gently rise and I'll softly call:_

_Good night and joy be with you all._

The owner of the Black Horse Establishment, well, the former owner, didn't know what to do. The early morning sun was breaking over the horizon, the beautiful image cut in half by the thick trail of black smoke that was rising to the sky form where his inn had stood, now a blackened pile of rubble.

He'd just left his wife in the room where the injured were being treated, sobbing in the arms of the Queen, the body of his daughter in her arms. He knew it was supposed to be his job to comfort her, but this kind of mourning seemed to be a maternal thing, as many other mothers and maids had gathered round Silvia in the ward and he had just felt so out of place and helpless. And so he left.

And now he was wondering through the castle corridors, opened up generously by the King for the townspeople to shelter in for the rest of the darkness. And then he heard her voice, soft and haunting, wafting through the halls and like a trance, followed it.

_A man may drink and not be drunk._

_A man may fight and not be slain._

It was the maid, the one who had saved his son. The Skylish one. She was sitting on the floor, his son curled up against her, a knights cloak draped over them like a blanket. A barrel of the Kings ale had been set up in the corner for the men to take, and almost all in the room had a flagon in his hand. But they were all held forgotten as the Skylish maid sang.

_A man may court a pretty girl,_

_And perhaps be welcomed back again._

He thought back to when he had been standing on the street, when he first saw her in the window. He and many of the other men had formed a line from the fire to the well and were passing buckets of water to and fro at warped speed, when their concentration had been shattered by a falling chair and then her wild shoot covered face.

"_We're trapped. We need have to jump but we need something to land on."_

"_My children_!" He had yelled at her, fire forgotten. "_Do you have my children?_" But his words were drowned by other shouts and yells and screams, and a cart of hay was fetched and positioned beneath the window.

And Hal appeared, hoisted up on to the windowsill, he stood with his knees and back bent so he could fit through the frame, one arm was holding a large bundle to his chest, the other bracing himself against the wall. He was crying, the soot on his face streaked with tears and snot. And he was afraid, the innkeeper realised. Afraid to Jump.

"_You can do it boy_" He yelled, as others around shouted similar encouragements. But Hal was frozen, staring down into the hay pile in fear. _He's not going to Jump_ His father realised.

"_Hal-_" He started to shout, but then Hal was falling and screaming, having been suddenly pushed forward and off the sill by the maid behind him. A hundred hands must have been offered to him to help him out the hay once he landed, but Hal found his father's instantly and he let himself be tugged into his embrace.

The innkeeper missed the maid jumping afterwards, and then the Knight and Old Bathilda after her. But he did hear the sound of splintering wood, and he saw the roof of his home and work collapse in on itself. He saw the flames dimming under the constant stream of water brought by the townspeople. And he was listening when the maid clamped her hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eyes and whispered "_I'm so sorry_."

_But since it has so ordered been_

_By a time to rise and a time to fall_

He thought it was because of his home, but then Hal wriggled out of his grasp and showed to him the bundle in his tiny arms, which The Innkeeper then, with trembling hands, took from him.

He remembered little after that, but his wife screaming and sobbing, and Hal getting in the way, and him shouting for someone to take the child away, which he guessed the maid must have done.

Now Hal was near sleep in her arms as she played mother to him while his real mother wept in another room.

_Come fill to me the parting glass_

_Goodnight and joy be with you all_

She sung so softly, that everyone in the room leaned in, scarce a person seemed to be breathing as she finished the last lines, her voice stretching out with the melody.

_Goodnight and joy be with you all_

No-one applauded. As Hal would then wake up and the lullaby would have been for naught. But there was more than one man was a tear in his eye from the Haunting Skylish song sung by the mysterious Skylish maid. The knight who had been in the fire with her moved from his place across the room and sat down against the wall by her side, silently handing her a tankard of ale. She took it with a grateful smile and raised it up to the still silent room of men and women.

"A ghrian a's a ghealach, stiùir sinn. Gu uair ar cliù 's ar glòir"

She then downed the pint.

* * *

_The song in this chapter is called 'The parting Glass' and its a Scottish/Irish traditional song. I first heard it on the Ed Sheeran album but there has been many other covers as well. I suggest you check out The Celtic Women's version as well as The Wailin' Jennys. I honestly can't decide which I like more._

_But anywho, that's the chapter, tell me what you think._

_Love Elle x_


End file.
